A comedy of errors
by Braxin
Summary: Standalone, short story. Trip, T'Pol and a breakup.
1. Chapter 1

**1.**

T'Pol ate alone this day, which was a change of pace, for she usually ate lunch with Commander Tucker, but the man had to work through lunch, due to a screw-up by his night shift crew.

"Just as well," she thought. "He kept me up all night, playing games… delightful games, but games nonetheless, and I have skipped my meditation because of that last night."

She decided that a brief lunch was called for, followed by a short period of meditation on the Observation Deck, before returning to duty. She hoped that she could truly meditate, for her thoughts had become focused on the Commander lately.

"What have I done?" she thought. "Has my logic failed me?"

She had recently given in to her carnal desires for the Commander, after unfair provocation, as she saw it. During one of their neuro-pressure sessions, the Commander accused her of indulging in emotions, specifically, in jealousy. It was a ridiculous notion! Just because he had been spending some of his time with the human MACO, Amanda Cole, she T'Pol, had supposedly grown jealous over that fact. It was not a matter of jealousy to feel the slightest feeling of annoyance that the good Commander was a plainly a fool, a fool who did not see that he had a much more suitable partner with whom to indulge his sensuality, right in from of him. Her, T'Pol!

In any case, she had responded to the Commander's taunts of jealousy, by stripping off her kimono to reveal her nudity and followed up that brazen act with a kiss, which was the beginning of a delightful night. The next morning she had feigned an air of cool indifference while discussing the matter with the Commander over coffee, yet despite that, when the man came to her quarters that same night, for what purpose she never determined, it was only a matter of minutes before they tore each other's clothes off, in a mindless frenzy.

That act was repeated many times since, and despite the fact that logic would dictate that familiarity should dull excitement, she grew only more and more obsessed with the Commander, his touch, his glance and his desire. If he were a Vulcan, she might have been worried, but all knew that human sexuality was a flighty thing, and that this would be a temporary exploration into human sexuality for her, a pleasurable fling for the Commander before he moved on to his next partner.

The SubCommander's thoughts were interrupted by Ensign Mulh, the ship's IT specialist.

"SubCommander," said Mulh.

"Ensign."

"I apologize for disturbing your lunch."

"Not at all, Ensign," said T'Pol. "May I be of service to you?"

"Actually, yes, sir," said Mulh, "if you can sneak away from the Bridge for a few hours, sometime today. I'm having problems with the some of comm system's sub-routines. Started showing up sometime last night from what I can tell. I'm shorthanded today, I've got two people out with the flu, and the captain requires my attention today. Would you glance at those sub-routines, see if you can spot the problem? I've flagged the questionable files."

"I would be glad to do so, Ensign," said T'Pol.

"Thank you, SubCommander," said Mulh.

"You are quite welcome," said T'Pol.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

An hour later, T'Pol began digging into Mulh's sub-routines and saw the problems of which the man had been speaking. Emails, texts, conference calls and other assorted communications were going to the wrong destinations, seemingly at random, though few things were truly random where machines or computers were concerned.

Looking at the logbook, she saw that one of Mulh's people had made some changes in the routines the night before and recompiled them. Mulh had rightfully flagged those files. Ok, the problem had to be there.

The diagnostic system generated some visual representations of the data as it passed through the network, and T'Pol stumbled across something that she found personally troubling. Doubtless it was an error, but she resolved to review that data, after she performed her duty to the ship. Forty-seven minutes later she found Mulh's problem, fixed it, and marked the problem resolved, so that Mulh would know at first glance that his attention to this problem was no longer necessary. Now back to her problem.

Pulling up the comm data for the crew she went back to the abnormal spike in Commander Tucker's comm usage of last night. She extended the parameters to show a week's worth of usage, then a month's worth, then a year's worth. Her heart sank.

Almost every night for six months now, long before last night's troubles with the comm system, Commander Tucker had initiated a lengthy nightly video conference call with another crewman. A female. It was Ensign Hoshi. T'Pol was a clever girl. She knew exactly what that meant.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

"Hey, T'Pol," said Trip, when he opened his cabin door, to allow her to step inside.

He had showered, and put on some socks and slacks, but was still only halfway though his prepping routine.

"You're early," said Trip. "I still have to shave, pick out a shirt… I won't be long though."

"I can not make tonight's engagement, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, standing at attention, hands behind her back. "In fact I will not be able to make any more engagements with you."

"Oh?" said Trip. "What's going on?"

"I think you know very well, what is going on, Commander Tucker."

"And yet I say that I don't, T'Pol. So, fill me in."

"Very well, Commander," said T'Pol, displeased, for she had hoped that the Commander would confess his betrayal as a sign of decency. "The time we have spent together was enjoyable, but I will tell you now that I was merely conducting a study of human sexuality. That study is now over."

"I see," said Trip "A study. Just like that, no feelings at all, T'Pol?"

"I am a Vulcan, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "I am not controlled by my emotions."

For once, the Commander tried to emulate a Vulcan's control, saw T'Pol, for his face was controlled, but there was pain in his eyes. Perhaps, now he feels a fraction of the pain which I felt on learning of his betrayal, thought T'Pol, and she was glad there was pain in the Commander's eyes, for at least that hinted that it had not all been a sham, a cruel ploy to bed a Vulcan and brag of it.

"Unless there is something else to say, Commander, I will—"

"No, you've said enough, T'Pol. Get out."


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

It was a week after Trip and T'Pol had butted heads that Archer called them in his Ready Room, and it had been a tense week for T'Pol. Trip had simply made himself unavailable. He had become a virtual ghost, which should not be possible for a department head. He now sent one of his crew up to the Bridge to deliver the Captain's reports. He staggered his schedule, confusing anyone that might have a reason to keep track of him, he ate his lunches at his desk, he no longer dined in the Captain's Mess, and he spent his evenings with the guys, the Captain, or in his quarters. Even his customary late night snacks now were a hit and go process – take the snack and leave the Mess Hall, which came in handy for those times when T'Pol just happened to be there, which was, oddly enough, quite often.

T'Pol, for her part, had fallen back on her Vulcan poise, pretending that nothing had happened, for she was a Vulcan, and she was a professional, yet it would be accurate to say that her heart beat faster when Trip called the Bridge and caught Archer in the Captain's Chair, instead of the Ready Room. Then T'Pol was all ears, for the sound of the Commander's voice is all she had of him now.

"Have a seat," said Archer to T'Pol, for Trip had already thrown himself into a chair.

"I am quite comfortable, Captain," said T'Pol, standing, hands clasped behind her back.

Her statement to the captain had nothing to do with the fact that Commander Tucker had once told her, after they'd become intimate, that it drove him crazy with desire to see her stand like that. Supposedly, it displayed the lines of her body to best effect, highlighting her beauty. But her choice to stand had nothing at all to do with that statement.

"Fine," said Archer, looking out a porthole.

They were orbiting Earth now, and despite all the beautiful planets they'd seen, there was something about this blue planet that beat them all.

"Make her sit, Captain," said Trip with a smirk. "She's defying your orders."

T'Pol glanced briefly at the Commander, torn between the desire to kiss him, or slap him. Actually, one of each would be appropriate, for the way he ignored her stung. This, when he was at fault, when he was the one who should be apologizing!

No matter, thought T'Pol, arching her back and turning slightly for best effect. She could tell her arrow hit the mark, when the Commander flinched. Served him right, for despite her initial resolve, T'Pol had checked the logs repeatedly after their breakup. Commander Tucker was still in extended nightly communications with Ensign Hoshi.

"Listen, while we're twiddling our thumbs up here, we can do something productive. Some of the engineers of the Tek'Marr," said Archer, indicating the huge Vulcan cruiser in orbit a few thousand meters off their port side, "would like to come aboard, discuss some of our encounters. They want a rundown from you, Trip, on anything that you found professionally interesting during our encounters with other species. I think they're fishing for some new technology ideas."

"Sure, Captain," said Trip.

Archer looked at T'Pol, and said, "SubCommander, I want you there as well. The Vulcans attending the meeting speak English quite well, I'm told, but there's always the possibility of misunderstandings when dealing with technical jargon."

"Understood, Captain," said T'Pol. "When will this conference take place?"

"Four hours from now, so both of you, eat, sleep, meditate, whatever, until then," said Archer. "I'll call you when it's time."

"Right, Captain," said Trip, before making his exit.

"Walk with me, Commander," said T'Pol a moment later, for she'd been fast on the Commander's heels, too quick to allow the man to make his now customary vanishing act this time.

"What do you want, T'Pol?" said Trip, as they headed for the turbo-lift. "I need to meditate before dealing with a room full of Vulcans."

T'Pol waited until the turbo-lift door had closed, before she said, "Are we going to have a problem, Commander?"

"I don't understand the question," said Trip.

"You have been acting quite distant since I severed our relationship, if that is what it was," said T'Pol, subtly fishing for the Commander to state that what they had was indeed a relationship.

"Relationship?" said Trip, a look of equanimity on his face that would have done Surak proud. "I don't know about you, T'Pol, but I was conducting a study of Vulcan sexuality."

T'Pol almost winced on hearing those words, for they were her words, but reversed.

"I am sorry I said that, Commander," said T'Pol, as the turbo-lift reached its destination, "but I was slightly emotional on that day."

"Yeah, and you never told me what brought all that on," said Trip. "You've never given me a reason."

That much was true, thought T'Pol, for neither Commander Tucker, nor Ensign Hoshi, had any way to know their actions had been detected.

"In fact," said Trip, irritated now just thinking of that day, "why don't you skip the conference. I'll get Hoshi to stand in for you."

Perhaps she imagined it, or perhaps she was putting him on, but T'Pol would later swear to Trip that she had actually seen the color red and heard voices in her head urging her to kill Commander Tucker, when he had spoken those words to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

The conference would have started off well enough, save for the fact that the lead engineer on the Vulcan's side, Marik, came from a family that was associated with Koss' clan and Marik did not look favorably upon the fact that T'Pol had cancelled her engagement to Koss two years past, in order to remain on this primitive ship of humans.

"We are honored by your presence, T'Pol," said Marik, "symbol of all that is noble on Vulcan."

The two Vulcan engineers with Marik looked slightly surprised, for the sarcasm was palpable, and such bad manners from guest to host, was impolite, to say the least. The human engineer, Tucker, merely looked at Marik through narrowed eyes as he sipped his coffee, no doubt waiting for the conference to begin.

"And we are glad to host you and your colleagues, Marik," said T'Pol. "Would you care for something to drink before we begin discussions."

"I want nothing from you, T'Pol," said Marik in Vulcan. "You are fast becoming a fucking joke on Vulcan. First you break off an honorable engagement, they you give away a valued intelligence post in P'Jemm, what next I wond—"

"Hey," said Trip sharply, looking directly at Marik, "is there a reason you have to speak to SubCommander T'Pol in that tone?"

Given how tense things were between she and the Commander, T'Pol was surprised that Trip had chosen to speak up for her, and even more gratified that he did so, for it hinted that perhaps, Commander Tucker still cared, and despite his misstep, they would one day resolve this problem which separated them.

T'Pol said, "Please, Commander. You do not understand what is going on. You can not just infer the meaning of a conversation from its tone."

"Maybe you can't," said Trip. "I can."

"Can you control this fool?" said Marik, once again speaking Vulcan while looking at T'Pol.

"This fool will control himself when you show SubCommander T'Pol proper respect," said Trip, in acceptable Vulcan, before adding a foul insult at the end.

That last word the Commander had used, krwan'tana, was practically a Vulcan literary poem in its vulgarity. Literally translated it intimated that Marik suffered from a distended scrotum that dragged behind him as he walked, but the translation to English couldn't convey the proper degree of ridicule which one could convey in Vulcan. But the poetry of the Commander's words meant nothing to T'Pol, for she was literally stunned at hearing her mother tongue, falling easily from the Commander's lips. How?

"Charming, T'Pol," said Marik, switching to English. "You have had a wonderful influence on these people."

"T'Pol had nothing to do with it, Marik," said Trip, speaking Vulcan still. "I learned my Vulcan from an Ensign Sato. She's the one with a potty mouth."

Arrrrgggghhhh! Now it all made sense to T'Pol in the blink of an eye, and she wished that the Enterprise should fall from orbit and crash into the Earth at terminal speed, to punish her for her stupidity. The things she had said to the Commander, the way she had treated the man, and all that Commander Tucker had done with Ensign Sato was study the Vulcan language, no doubt intending to one day surprise his Vulcan lover. Well, on that score, the Commander's desire was fully accomplished, for she was quite surprised.

"In that case my compliments go to your Lieutenant Sato," said Marik. "May we get to work now?"

"We may, so long as we understand each other, Marik," said Trip. "Courtesy serves a purpose, no?"

Marik was much too controlled to openly brawl over an insult, but an astute observer would have noticed the tips of his ears coloring a touch, as he worked to maintain his temper at the fact of being lectured by a human.

"Indeed," said Marik.

* * *

The rest of the conference went well enough, for Marik had a good mind which revealed itself once the discussion had turned to the actual topic at hand, and Trip was one StarFleet's best, which all led to a lively but informative discussion for the next six hours or so. Once finished, Trip, thanked them for their time, affirmed sincerely that he'd found the conference quite interesting and informative and excused himself, while T'Pol made a polite farewell, Vulcan style. By the time she had walked the Vulcans back to their shuttle, the Commander had long since made his escape, so T'Pol accessed the ship's computers from a nearby wall console.

"Computer," said T'Pol.

The computer responded with a chime.

"Locate Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"Commander Tucker is in the Mess Hall," said the computer.

A minute later, T'Pol stood before the Mess Hall's doors. A deep breath, a second of focus, and T'Pol made a regal entrance, to find Commander Tucker sitting at their usual table… well at what used to be their usual table, before she had started this whole thing. The man was sitting with coffee cup in hand, a giant slice of carrot cake, half eaten, on the table. T'Pol walked up to the Commander, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Do you understand what you are doing to your body with all that sugar, Commander?" said T'Pol, in a lame gambit to start a conversation.

The Chief took a sip of his coffee, set the cup down, looked up at T'Pol, and said, nothing. T'Pol took a deep breath.

"May we go somewhere private, Commander? I would speak with you, concerning the two of us, and our relationship."

"Our relationship?" said Trip, and spat out a bitter laugh.

"Yes, Commander, our relationship."

Trip looked pointedly around the Mess Hall, and said, "Ok. Well, we're all alone, T'Pol."

"Please, Commander," said T'Pol.

"You hurt my feelings, T'Pol," said Trip, absentmindedly stabbing his cake with the fork, "and you blew me off without even telling me why, so I'll return the favor. Go away now. I've had enough of you for today."

Instead of following Trip's suggestion, T'Pol went for broke instead, and explained the reasons for her actions to the Commander, over the course of a few minutes. At the end of it all, the Chief was flabbergasted.

"Are you kidding me, T'Pol? All this over something that could have easily been avoided by talking to me? If you had come to me with your questions, I'd have admitted that I'm taking Vulcan lessons, and I'd have switched from Hoshi to you for my instruction, once my secret was out in the open."

"I was clearly mistaken, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "I apologize for that sincerely, and I hope you will forgive me. I will make it up to you in time, if you can not find it in yourself to forgive me now."

"I'm going to tell you this, T'Pol," said Trip, after taking a last bite of cake and pushing the plate away. "This thing between us, it's good. It's very good. You're the best I ever had, T'Pol, and I don't want to lose you."

"You are all I ever had, Trip, and I do not want to lose you," said T'Pol, wonderfully overwhelmed by the way this day was ending, after the pain, loneliness and angst of the past week or so since she had started this whole thing.

Trip took a last sip from his coffee cup, and stood, taking T'Pol's hand.

"Come on, T'Pol."

"Where to?"

"You said that you wanted to make it up to me, T'Pol" said Trip. "You'll have that chance now, but if I get more than an hour's sleep tonight, you're not forgiven."

"One moment, Commander," said T'Pol, then rang the chime to the kitchen.

A moment later the night prep cook came out, and said, "Yes, SubCommander?"

"Do you have any brownies back there, Crewman?"

"Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, I have a pan just out of the oven."

"I will take them in a go-box please."

"Sure, SubCommander. How many?"

"All of them."

"That's sixteen large brownies, SubCommander," said crewman Gersan, glancing briefly at Trip, for the man was known to have a sweet tooth, but he had just gorged on carrot cake.

"That should be sufficient," said T'Pol.

"You heard her, Gersan," said Trip.

"Yes, sirs," said Gersan and went to pack T'Pol's brownies in a box.

Trip raised brow in a damned good facsimile of T'Pol.

"I intend to rise to your challenge, Commander," said T'Pol, "but my body is a high performance machine, and I will need to snack periodically on the brownies, to fuel me through the night."


End file.
